A Song of Death and Magic
by dizzykitty
Summary: Lily Potter's choice to save her child has far reaching unforeseen consequences, though many think the war ended the night the curse rebounded. Ten years later Holly Potter unearths a family secret that sets her on a path where she learns there is no escaping fate when fate is the beat of war drums to a millennia old war.
1. Chapter 1

Welcome to the first chapter of another story. It will be an AU, and have a female Harry and even following the line of a possible another Boy-Who-Lived element as well. Whether it is the wrong one or not will be revealed over time. I quite like WBWL stories so long as they are written well. For those of you who follow another of my stories please know Daughter of Blood is not abandoned and an explanation will be at the end for long absence. For those that don't an explanation will also be present for the possibility of long gaps between updates. I hope you are able to enjoy the story and remain patient with me.

This story has been influenced by more than a few concepts, mythology, Brian Lumley's Necroscope series, WBWL stories. While it will contain some crossover elements it doesn't properly fall into a crossover story as I hopefully do something a little different. If you haven't read Brian Lumley's work please don't worry, everything will be explained over time.

Another story that has influenced this story is called Keogh by ChelleyBean - its Hermione centric and is the only other story I have come across that uses Brian Lumley's works.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything, J.K Rowling owns Harry Potter along with Warner Brothers owning what rights they own and Necroscope belongs to Brian Lumley. I am just using their playground.

 **Warnings:-** Dark story, violent, horror and other scary things - mentions of child abuse, (though my story will not be filled with scene after scene with them) and nor will I go into explicit detail about things that were never hinted at within the books. Harry was neglected and abused and that does have a real impact on a person and something I am going to try and portray realistically in my story. Please know that if I am writing from a character's point of view and they are 'trying to justify their actions' that it is not my own opinion. Child Abuse in any form, whether physical, emotional, sexual, psychological or neglect is wrong. Abuse in any form is wrong.

Any mistakes are mine and mine alone.

* * *

 **Chapter 1:**

Holly had tried to be normal, once.

Had tried to curb everything that made her unusual.

Had tried to fit in with how her family perceived the world.

Everything her aunt did she mimicked.

The way she acted, the way she held herself, the way she talked.

Everything!

She cooked breakfast every morning and ensured that nothing was burnt.

She tended to the garden, paying particular attention to the roses.

She worked hard, learnt quickly and tried to be the best she could be.

She was polite and quiet at all times.

 _Little girls should be seen and not heard,_ was often thrown in her direction when she asked any questions, quickly followed by _don't ask questions._

Sometimes out the corner of her eye, though she saw her aunt's lips slyly turn upwards, not quite a smile, it was more than the usual grimace whenever she looked in her general direction. It was the slight twist of her lips that made Holly all the more determined to gain her aunt's approval.

* * *

Holly realised at the tender age of six, how stupid that was.

She was never going to gain her aunt's approval no matter what she did.

She was a _freak, abomination, abnormal!_

And her Aunt hated anything abnormal.

Holly didn't mean to be; she had tried and tried to control it. To push it down, ignore it, forget about it.

But it had been an impossible task.

It had been Dudley's fault. Dudley who never liked the idea of sharing...anything.

He had come swaggering over to her, already becoming one of the biggest boys in their year, a small group following behind him like laughing hyenas.

He'd snatched the card she had been neatly colouring on, a _mother's day card,_ for her aunt. Miss Jones had said it was perfectly acceptable for her to do one; after all her aunt looked after her like a mum.

Dudley looked at it, with a sneer before ripping it up, proclaiming for all to hear "She's not your mum...she doesn't want you. Even your own mum didn't want you, little orphan nobody."

Anger had burned through Holly like she had never felt before. Her eyes stung, and she could feel the tears building.

 _She would not cry!_ Would not give _him_ the satisfaction.

But Dudley was like a bloodhound for weaknesses in others; he smelled it and used it against them. Already he had begun to lord it over all in their year.

"Little Holly going to cry? Cry that she has no mummy and no daddy and that nobody wants her."

He laughed, and his hyenas laughed with him.

 _She hated, hated, hated!_

Holly snapped. Like a flick of a switch, the burning anger lashed out.

In truth, she wasn't sure exactly what happened; just that it was something unusual, notordinary and _freakish!_

Almost as if something exploded out of her and the world blurred.

She was so focused on Dudley she was only vaguely aware of his screams and the screams of others around him.

Blinking she stared in surprise as the ripped up card that Dudley had been holding in his hands burst into flames. Flames that had quickly travelled to his school jumper before spreading even further up his arms.

Chaos quickly followed as teachers rushed to his aid, but even amidst all the drama, he was able to finger the blame on to her.

* * *

Aunt Petunia was silent next to her.

Holly wasn't sure which was worse.

The raging fury that had been her uncle or the silent seething that was her aunt.

Aunt Petunia hadn't even looked at her once since she had come rushing to her son's side at the school or the journey to the hospital or the drive home.

Uncle Vernon had screamed and yelled until he was purple in the face; had even threatened with the promise of beating her black and blue. But then he often threatened whenever Holly did something... _odd._

It was only upon arriving home her aunt finally turned and spoke to her.

"Go and wait in the kitchen, I will deal with you in a moment!" Before promptly herding Dudley upstairs.

Inwardly Holly winced; her aunt's voice had been cold. Colder than the ice in the freezer, and she dared not disobey. Dudley shot her an evil grin around his _mother's_ arms before they disappeared out of sight.

He wasn't even hurt!

But in true Dudley fashion, he faked and milked and basked in the attention.

 _But he should have been hurt,_ a small voice warned.

And wasn't that the biggest mystery of all.

One that had puzzled the doctors at the hospital, but the way her aunt's lips had thinned at the realisation, that while her baby boy's school jumper was singed black and burnt his arms remained unmarked, told Holly that her aunt most likely knew exactly what happened and she wasn't pleased.

Holly waited, dancing on the balls of her feet from one foot to the other. She knew she was going to be punished, knew she was going to be in trouble and she hated waiting for it.

"Dudley told me what happened," her aunt said sharply as she entered the kitchen.

"He started it...he took my card and rip -"

The slap surprised her.

Her cheek tingled and stung, and she stared wide-eyed at her aunt. Never, not once had they ever hit her before. _She had learnt early on to dodge the frying pan that was swung her way, so that didn't count in her eyes._ They had locked her in the cupboard without food for days at a time, they gave a list of chores that at times kept her busy for hours, duties she _had_ often enjoyed doing with her aunt but never once had they raised a hand to her. Okay so maybe Uncle Vernon was a little rough at times when he was throwing her into the cupboard, but he had never left a mark.

Dudley did, Dudley made sure to leave marks, but he didn't count.

"You set my baby boy on fire, and you dare to lay the blame on him!" Aunt Petunia screeched. It wasn't a scream, not really, but her voice _had_ gone higher in pitch to the point it made Holly wince.

"I didn't, I was nowhere near him. I didn't even touch him," Holly defended, but she knew at that moment it fell on deaf ears.

"People saw you! They know it was you."

"It just happened, I don't know how I didn't mean to, it just happened, and like magic, the flames were there," she cried the tears that had threatened earlier slowly started to fall.

The second slap happened just as quickly as the first.

The noise radiated off the walls in the kitchen.

"There. Is. No. Such. Thing. As. Magic!" her aunt hissed at her, "I knew taking you in was a mistake, I should have known you would have been just as freakish as your mother!"

"I'm sorry," Holly sniffled, "I...I won't do it again...I...I promise. I w...ill try to be good," she hiccupped, as she gasped for breath.

"Too little too late, you awful, awful girl."

She sniffed once, twice, letting the tears fall silently down her cheeks. It stung even more, the side that had been slapped and she could feel it burning and throbbing, but she dared not make a sound. Her aunt always hated it when _she_ made a fuss.

"I am not your mother. I will never be your mother. I am Dudley's mother and his alone. To think I would ever want a freak like you. You were left on our doorstep like the freak you are, and I refuse to allow such behaviour to continue," Her aunt, said quietly, too quietly, the deadly quiet that always carried more weight than the screaming and screeching.

Her aunt wanted her to hear this. Wanted her to get the message.

And it was at that moment, despite only being six, Holly realised the cold hard truth that was her reality. She was alone. So very alone. Her aunt would never love her. Her aunt would never want her.

She was a freak, abnormal.

She was never going to fit in with them, and she didn't know why.

Just that strange things happened to her, or _she_ made strange things happen.

Holly hadn't meant to turn her reception teacher's hair blue; she hadn't meant to make all of Dudley's toys come to life and scare him silly. Nor had intended to cause the dustbins to come to life and attempt to eat Piers Polkiss, (though he survived unharmed she might add if not somewhat scarred by the experience). Bringing the dead bird back to life had been a complete accident, she didn't mean to do it in the kitchen.

And Holly hadn't meant to set Dudley on fire.

But she had.

As Holly sat locked in her cupboard understanding dawned. She would never be good enough for her aunt, never.

And it hurt.

Holly _wanted_ her aunt to love her, _wanted_ her aunt to accept her.

It was perhaps while the tears streamed down her face, Holly despite her young age was able to comprehend that life didn't care about what you wanted. You got what you got, and unless you were willing to change it, you had to accept it.

Holly didn't want to accept it. She wanted to change it.

If she was never going to be good enough for _them_ , then she was going to make sure she was great enough to leave them behind.

To never need them again, for anything.

She was going to be the best she could be, and she would show them that _they_ weren't good enough for her. She was going to be better than them all.

Holly vowed she was going to learn everything she could and she was going to be impressive.

And she was going to start right now.

Holly was going to see if she could make something strange happen on purpose.

She placed one of her small toy soldiers on the shelves above and sat on her thin mattress and stared and stared.

Holly didn't want to set the toy soldier on fire, but she wanted to see if she could move it. Thinking back over the incident earlier that day she replayed everything leading up to Dudley getting his arm on fire.

She had been angry at her cousin. Angry and upset.

Did that mean she had to be angry and upset to make things happen? Holly thought back over other such unexplained incidents. Everything had resulted because she had been reacting to something.

Fear!

Anger!

Hurt!

Her feelings were key.

She stared at the toy soldier again, and let everything she had been feeling all day pour out of her.

The fire inside of her flared to life as she poured her anger, hurt, hatred. It burned them away until a desire far stronger than she had ever felt in her life filled her.

Holly couldn't help but wonder about all the strange things that _she_ had already done.

She couldn't help but dream and believe.

And then she felt it.

Almost like a moment of peace.

A hum underneath her pulse.

And slowly the toy soldier rose slowly from the shelf and moved towards her.

She did it.

Needless to say, she didn't sleep very well that night or any of the following nights after. Her desire having grown tenfold drove her on and on until she was practising every night. Like a switch had flicked in the dark a little girl dismissed her fear of being different and embraced that which she'd previously feared.

Holly smiled she would never again be the girl in the cupboard.

* * *

 **XXX**

* * *

Petunia hated magic.

Hated with a capital H.

 _Hated because you can't have it._

It was wrong, it was unnatural, it was perverted - it perverted everything it touched. Flowers returning to life after they had fallen, dead, off their stalks. Humans flying through the air like their bones were as hollow as a hummingbird's. Things changing their shapes, people changing their hearts, changing who they were, who they loved...

As children, they had been inseparable until _he_ had come and _magic_ had taken Lily away. Every year, she had stood silent, a tight smile plastered on her face as she waved her sister off, hot jealousy bubbling inside of her.

Perfect Lily who lived a strange life far away from their parents, punctuated with reports filled with 'Outstanding's' and celebratory family dinners in the holidays. Princess Lily who could do no wrong while Petunia's own mistakes happened right under her parent's noses.

Her parents who sang her sister's praises whenever they could and admonished her for her own dreams, goals that hardly compared to Lily who waved her wand and created beautiful, magnificent things.

Petunia dreamed of creating beautiful things too, dreamed of fashion and designs and her own brand, and yet in spite of herself, every day, she rose early in hopes that her Hogwarts acceptance letter might fly through the mail slot.

But it never came.

And as each day passed, her resentment for Lily grew with a paralysing envy which burned inside of her no matter how much she tried to ignore it. Until it consumed everything.

She missed and hated her perfect sister.

She despised and desired to join her on her incredible adventure.

It hurt to breathe thinking about how much she wanted magic.

She could remember the day her niece arrived, even now, that _cold_ November morning, wrapped in a blanket, left on the doorstep with a note attached to her. The mother in her had been outraged at such a thing, the uncaring way the whole situation had happened. Albus Dumbledore hadn't even bothered to knock on the front door to tell her to her face the bad news. Instead, a note had been left to explain everything. As if a letter was a satisfactory way to discover that your sister was as good as dead. A part of her had died that day, the tiny little bit that still loved, beneath the envy and hatred, her sister and hoped one day they would be able to reconcile.

Despite what she told herself, Petunia never hated Holly Potter in the beginning. When the chubby baby with dark tufts of hair and scar on her forehead landed on her doorstep, she desperately wanted to hate her. She knew, in ten years, no matter what she did, Dumbledore and magic would steal her away in the same way he had taken her sister. But as she looked into the large green eyes that watched everything with pure enjoyment and a smile and giggle that was contagious, she couldn't help but love her. The last remaining link of Lily.

She remembers though, remembers the first time it became glaringly evident that Holly was her mother's daughter.

Petunia remembers because it was the day she stopped loving her, and even now years later she didn't care how that made her appear.

They had been playing together; Holly and Dudley, sharing giggles and games but entirely separate. Their faces lighting up with glee. Holly had cocked her head to one side, the way Lily had often done, scrunched up her face tightly with a look of pure concentration, or as much attention a two and half-year-old could perhaps muster. Then almost with a click, the toys before them had sprung to life, moving on their own accord and freely, surrounding both Holly and Dudley. Memories bubbled inside of her and Petunia's heart had lurched. How could she have thought she would be any different? The pure joy and laughter that crossed her nieces face followed by the startled cry of fear from her son.

Petunia acted instinctively, grabbing Holly by the arms and giving her a shake until she too was crying, but the toys had fallen down unmoving as they were supposed to be.

Despite her guilt, she didn't regret it. Maybe it made her a bad person, but she had long since stopped caring. She locked her in the cupboard under the stairs and soothed her own son's cries, drowning out the wail of her niece with comforting words and promises of ice cream as she carried Dudley to the kitchen.

As the years passed though the more she looked at Holly, the more she saw Lily. Saw big, curious green eyes which burned you a little when you looked at them too long - dark pits of fire and passion, but soft and warm, welcoming also. Secretly she had been pleased that the girl had tried to do all in her capability of being like her.

A silent victory over her sister, _look your daughter is looking up to me, not you. She hates anything unnatural and freakish._

Of course, the incidents had still happened, despite how they punished her, they had all been harmless, but this one had been different. Very different.

Fear had gripped her the moment she had gotten off the telephone from the school, afraid for her baby boy.

It had taken her every ounce of control not to wring her niece's neck as they drove to the hospital, a tearful Dudley whimpering in pain; barely able to look at his cousin alas she set him on fire again. She hadn't dared look at the girl throughout the entire examination, relief filling her when it was soon realised that despite how badly burnt his clothes were, her baby was unharmed, unscarred, unmarked.

 _But it could have been, she could have hurt him, killed him._

Magic was dangerous. Her niece was dangerous. She had been too lenient with her, too soft something Petunia knew she couldn't afford to do any longer.

She hadn't meant to slap her; it had caught her completely by surprise almost as much as it had caught Holly. Instantly guilt gnawed at her, she had never physically hit either of them before, and it wasn't something she was going to start now. She didn't believe in it, but as she stood there, she felt her anger bubble, as the _girl_ dared blame Dudley for her freakish attack. Her hand had risen without her knowledge.

The second slap, she had meant, her fury unleashing itself and attacking with ferocity at the one who dared hurt her only child, regardless of whether that person was a child herself. Her words had struck more blows, invisible but just as painful just as she intended them to. She wanted the girl to hurt, just like she had hurt all those years ago when magic had stolen her sister.

She locked her in the cupboard for weeks, feeding her on a diet of leftovers.

When her anger died, and she finally let the girl out, she realised her mistake. The girl had changed. Her green eyes still burned when she looked at you, but instead of the warmth, a coldness filled them. An iciness that promised death. Gone was the obedient girl who did everything she could for crumbs of praise which had come few and far between. Gone was the girl that tried to be normal. Instead, she was something else.

Cold, distant, unfeeling, uncaring.

Somebody who embraced her differences and no matter how many times the _incidences_ happened and punishment followed the magic refused to be tamed. Declined to be put back in a cage.

Petunia couldn't help but be afraid.

She couldn't help regret her mistake, but it was too late now. She knew that she had pushed and pushed until she had pushed too far. In her desire to ensure her baby boy never felt the way _she had_ when being left behind, that _he_ wasn't good enough for magic, she had assured she showed him just how special he was. At the expense of another, another who had desperately wanted love and affection, but had only been shown disgust, anger and hate.

Petunia knew in that moment she had lost her niece forever, in five years Hogwarts would come calling, and her niece wouldn't look back, and she feared what would happen then.

* * *

 **XXX**

* * *

The first thing one noticed about Privet Drive was how unremarkable the street actually was. Uniformed houses on either side of the road with neatly trimmed lawns and lush flower beds and shining brass door numbers.

 _Dull, ordinary, unremarkable._

Minerva shuddered at the thought as she walked up the street towards what the letter claimed was the right house. She was no stranger to the Muggle world, her position giving her plenty of opportunities to interact with the families of the muggle-born students. Minerva had lost count at the number of young witches and wizards she had introduced to magic over the years. But never in all her years had she been around somewhere where everything was of such a regiment design _and that included the time where she actually visited Catterick Garrison._

The world was pale without the shine of magic that marked Hogwarts and Diagon Alley. There was an extra depth to the colours, hum to the sounds and buzz of life as magic pulsed within.

Perhaps she was too harsh, seeing the outside shell and not seeing beyond. But one thing Minerva was sure of was that it was incredibly hard to imagine a young witch living somewhere so unremarkable and being happy, free or relaxed.

But then she would reserve judgement for the time being until she actually met Holly Potter.

Minvera raised her hand to knock on the door, absently wondering just what she would find on the other side.

The door opened almost at once. The girl was a scrawny little thing. _You're too unkind,_ Minerva corrected herself; she was small for her age, _too small,_ if she was going, to be honest.

Minerva found her voice had deserted her. She could only stare. She looked like James, with that unruly blackhair that seemed to kink itself into natural waves at a longer length, but it was her eyes that made her heart jump into her throat. Her eyes were exactly the shade of Lily's as Minerva had last seen them. They looked older though. Older than a child _should_ have.

"Can I help you?"

She wasn't rude. But her voice held a note of indifference to it, stating she didn't really care one way or the other and she was only asking because that was what one was supposed to do.

Minerva couldn't help but wonder what kind of life the girl had had. Old anger and doubts made her voice probably sharper than it should have been, deep down she knew it wasn't the girl's fault. _Merlin_ knew she had received the short end of the stick when push came to shove in the whole affair. Everything had worked out so unfairly. But then life was prone to do that, no matter how loudly one cursed at the injustice of such things.

"My name is Professor McGonagall, Deputy Head Mistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. As your family are already aware of our world, you probably know all about magic, but as you have been raised in a Muggle family, I thought it best for me to come and introduce myself and offer aid in reaching the Wizarding world."

The girl stared at her blankly. Her face void of any emotion, giving nothing away. It was a look that it seemed she had perfected to a fine art.

 _Or not._

Then her lips twitched into a grin that for a split moment she was taken back to _James_ when he had just pulled a prank, or found something funny or was playing Quidditch. She noted though the grin didn't quite reach her eyes, the coldness was still there burning away accusingly at her.

It was unnerving.

"Oh, they are going to love you," the girl stated, and despite the grin, there was nothing humorous about her statement. Just a declaration that made Minerva frown. As much as she looked like her father, with her mother's eyes James hadn't had the wary cold gaze; neither had Lily come to think about it. Or the pale skin.

Minerva swallowed the lump that was forming in her throat. Her instincts of dealing with children kicking in, _something_ was wrong here. She just couldn't quite place her finger on it.

"I suppose your aunt and uncle explained everything to you?" Minerva voiced it as a question, not expecting the answer really.

The girl snorted, "Explained what exactly."

It wasn't a question more a statement. As Holly - and she must be Holly, although so unlike how she had ever imagined a child of Lily and James to ever be - turned and stared back into the house with a look that could only be described as unsurprised.

Minerva stared at the girl; both her mother and father would have been outraged at such a thought, but Holly, seemed as disinterested in the fact that they were keeping something from her as much as she was unsurprised in the piece of information that they were keeping something from her.

Minerva raised her wand just as a large man charged in from another room. Minerva warned herself to be careful; she didn't want to give him a heart attack.

But then the man roared at Holly, "Who is this?" his gaze went to Minerva's robes before he straightened up and yelled, "FREAK!"

She winced inwardly, pushed down the urge to curse him into oblivion or change him into the walrus he already looked like and waved her wand at an ugly patterned vase standing on a shelf instead.

The vase shimmered and warped and struggled for a moment visibly vibrating before shifting, rippling and swirling until a black raven was perched on the shelf, feathers ruffling as wings stretched out. The man shut up quicker than Minerva thought possible, and she couldn't help but smile. She found that a bit of unexpected magic was almost always efficient at doing that.

She glanced down at Holly, who was watching with amusement. Minerva frowned, that was hardly the response she had been expecting. Yes, the girl didn't look frightened, which is what she was half expecting due to her apparent total ignorance about things that should have been her rightful heritage.

But amusement was not it. Though the closer Minerva looked the more she could see it wasn't just amusement. It was realisation dawning in those green eyes. Something clicking into place and glee was beginning to shine through brightly.

It was the first warming emotion she had seen cross those emerald green eyes since she had knocked on the door.

"Now, as I was explaining to your _niece,_ I am Professor Minerva McGonagall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and I have come to give Holly her acceptance letter and take her to Diagon Alley, considering her _unusual_ circumstances. Apparently, I must explain magic to her, the war and who her parents really are."

"She will not be going," a woman stated. Minerva turned to see an incredibly thin woman, with a long neck standing behind the man. She had known Lily had a sister, but no resemblance was visible between the two women.

"We swore when we took her in we'd put a stop to that rubbish, that freaky... aberration," The woman continued.

Minerva found that her voice had failed her once again. But rather than shock causing her silence, anger silently flared to life inside of her. _How dare the vile woman..._

She dared a glance at Holly.

The girl's face had smoothed over to disinterest again, though there was a hardness in those green eyes that was like ice. Minerva could almost feel the cold and magic radiating from her.

"You knew!" the girl stated, her tone was calm. Too calm under the circumstances if truth be told.

Lily's sister flinched visibly at the statement. Before she turned to face her niece, "Knew," the woman sniped, "How could you not be, my dratted sister being what she was? Oh, she got her letter just like that and disappeared off to that - that school - and came home every holiday with her pockets full of frog-spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was - a freak!"

The woman only paused for air, before swiftly carrying on with venom lacing every word. She was intending to hurt, _knew_ precisely where to land the blows as if she had been preparing for this for the last ten years.

Minerva waved her wand, silently casting the Silencing charm. The woman opened her mouth multiple times, but no sound came out. A look of fear twisted her face as panic flickered in her eyes. She could see her almost beginning to silently gasp for air as she attempted to make some form of sound.

"I think we have heard quite enough from you," she said firmly, throwing her a look she had used over the years with students incapable of behaving _if she is going to act like a child, I will treat her like one_.

"I will be taking your niece to buy her school things now, she will not be returning until this evening where _I_ will be accompanying her."

She looked at Holly, who turned her green eyes to meet her own. She could see the anger swirling behind them, along with amusement and joy.

The girl gave a small smile, and Minerva could perhaps find it in herself to forgive herself for stooping to _their_ level as she returned it with one of her own.

* * *

 **XXX**

* * *

Holly's head was spinning.

When she had awoken early that morning, she had not anticipated her day going from ordinary to extraordinary quicker than... _waving a wand._

She had long since come to accept she was _unusual._ That she wasn't like the Dursleys and that was something she was more than grateful.

The moment she had accepted her differences, embraced the strange and odd things that happened around her and made the toy soldier move in her cupboard five years ago was the moment Holly's life had changed.

It had set her on a path to learn what was actually causing the odd occurrences.

And she had learnt.

It had taken time, but she had soon learnt how to Push, Pull and see with it. She could see the swirls of colours and hidden power everywhere she looked. Connecting her and everything else.

And then there were the cold spots.

Feelings in the back of her mind that made her shiver and the hair on her arms stand to attention.

Holly could almost swear she could hear voices though they sounded far too distant her to really make out. As if she was missing something without really realising what she was missing.

Holly had never been able to find out what it was she did or understand where it came from.

Until now.

Magic though explained everything.

Explained what she could so. Explained why she was different.

It didn't seem possible, and yet Professor McGonagall had turned a vase into a bird and had managed to silence her aunt half-way through her rant. Something Holly hadn't thought possible before, something she _wasn't_ capable of doing.

The fact _they_ had known was of little surprise to her. In fact, it explained why they disliked her so much. Why they were afraid.

She didn't fit into their ordinary view of the world or the neat and boring box they tried to shoehorn her into.

Holly had come to the conclusion she much preferred it that way.

She observed Professor McGonagall silently behind the rim of her _goblet?_ As she sipped her pumpkin juice. She wasn't sure she liked it, but it was her first official taste of the magical world so Holly was determined she would enjoy it regardless of whether she would ever have it again.

Professor McGonagall was dressed in a dark forest green robe, her black hair tied neatly up in a bun. She had a stern face, but her eyes held warmth in them she rarely saw in adults. At least directed at her.

Holly also got the impression she was _not_ a person she wanted to cross.

"I am certain you have questions," Professor McGonagall said softly. Despite the noise of the pub, Holly could still hear her clearly.

 _Too many,_ she silently agreed.

"Why can't I do magic like you can? I can do some things, but I can't turn a vase into a raven."

A small smile crept across the woman's lips. "Because you don't have a wand or the right training. Everything needs to be taught, magic is an innate ability Miss Potter, but it is one that must be honed, nourished and allowed to grow. Hogwarts gives you that training that skill to perform magic like I did, and more besides."

"But why don't you tell me what you can do?" Professor McGonagall continued, her gaze firmly fixed on Holly.

"I turned my teacher's hair blue, and I can make toys move. And I brought dustbins to life, they tried to eat one of the boys from school though," Holly admitted, choosing to mention the incidents that happened before she started learning. "How long? How long will it be able to take me to do what you did?"

"One might say all your life, you can learn something new every day, but officially your time at Hogwarts last seven years unless you are held back a year. Certain professions require _more_ training certainly, but a standard education is seven years."

"Seven years and I will be able to turn vases into animals?" Holly quizzed, as she took another sip of her juice.

"That altogether depends on you Miss Potter; Transfiguration is a complex art and one not easily mastered. If you work at it then yes, you will be able to turn vases into animals. But like all things you must work at it," she paused, holding her gaze firmly, "though I should warn you that magic is not to be performed in front of muggles. There are strict laws we must abide by, your aunt and uncle are...an unusual case as they already knew about magic."

Holly tilted her head slightly, before nodding once. She could understand that at least. It was logical.

"You mentioned my parents, a war. What happened?" she asked, absently gnawing at her bottom lip, before stopping herself.

Professor McGonagall sighed softly, her eyes looking at her with an emotion that wasn't quite pity or sadness, but more an understanding.

"There was a war that began when your parents were still young and in school," Professor McGonagall said at last. "There was a Dark Lord - a wizard who practised the dark arts - who wanted to rule our world. He gathered to him those who believed in his ideals, his vision, and his dream. They felt they were superior to all other wizards and witches. According to him, muggles or muggle-borns -"

"What are they?" Holly asked, without thinking.

Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow at her, but didn't berate her for interrupting; instead, she patiently answered the question, "Witches or wizards who have non-magical parents."

"Like my mum?"

"Yes like your mum. Some wizards and witches feel that those who come from a muggle family are unworthy of magic. Those who are less than _pure_ than those who come from a magical family with ancestors going as far back as they wish to claim. It was them who made up a large percentage of this Dark Lord's followers."

"Why?"

"That is a question many have tried to answer, one I believe goes back to the time where we were openly prosecuted by muggles, feared and hated. Or one might say it goes back to a time where we were ruled."

"Ruled?"

Professor McGonagall smiled at her, "Indeed, ancient Egypt, Ancient Greece and so forth, to be magical was to be King; perhaps many wish to go back to those times. Ruling those they believe weak and ignorant."

"Why did the Dark Lord try to rule us?"

"Do any of us truly know what lies within another's heart? What drives them? We certainly can speculate, but we may never know or understand."

Holly frowned.

She understood what drove her aunt, uncle and cousin. Greed, envy, pride and a desire to be better than anyone else.

"What was his name?"

Professor McGonagall hesitated a little shivering slightly, that had Holly not be paying close enough attention she would have missed entirely, before quietly answering, "Lord Voldemort. Though please be aware his name is rarely said. People too afraid to even think it."

"But that's stupid."

"And yet it is the way it has always been. They were dark times; very dark times and people have come to fear to speak the name almost as much as they fear the one who it belongs to."

Professor McGonagall continued, "So You-Know-Who amassed many followers together. He promised to get rid of Muggleborns, and he promised those who followed him; power, wealth and the world. That was enough for many to turn to him. Others followed out of fear."

Holly tilted her head again ever so slightly before asking her next question, "Is he still around?"

Professor McGonagall shook her head, and her face took on a bit of awe. "He was defeated when you were one. Nobody really knows what happened that night, I doubt we ever will," she started, "He attacked your family home on Halloween night, along with three of his followers. The Longbottom's were there also with their son. Both your parents and the Longbottom's had been fighting against You-Know-Who since they left school. It is said he hated both your families as a result of this."

Holly frowned, "Why who are the Longbottom's? What happened? Why were they there?"

"Your mother became friendly with Alice Longbottom once they left school. Alice was a little older but both of them fell pregnant at the same time, and I do believe you were born only a day apart from each other. They named their son Neville. You were all celebrating Halloween together when You-Know-Who attacked. The exact happenings of what happened in your home. I can't answer, but I do know that Frank and Alice Longbottom's lives ended that night. You-Know-Who attempted to kill both Neville and you, but something happened, and he failed. You both survived, and You-Know-Who vanished."

"I think I remember a green flash of light," Holly whispered, "It's been haunting my dreams for as long as I could remember, but it never made any sense."

"The Killing Curse. Unsurvivable, until that night."

"Why that night?" Holly asked with a frown.

"Neville was marked, different from your own as it was said to be caused unquestionably as a result of dark magic. It is speculated that Neville Longbottom survived the Killing Curse. Of course, nobody knows for certain, but it was enough for the public to jump on the hope that You-Know-Who was defeated and it marked Neville as the Boy-Who-Lived. Surviving something that until that point, had never been survived before."

Holly blinked it sound almost impossible, but then she supposed anything was possible with magic. But it did not explain what had happened to her own parents, or why she had a lightning bolt scar either.

"You said the Longbottom's died that night Professor, but what happened to my parents?"

Professor McGonagall stared at her, "Miss Potter your parents are still alive.

* * *

Holly was uncertain what to expect when she had asked to see her parents. If truth be told, she was uncertain _how_ she should feel about that particular revelation either.

Numb she supposed was the only word she could possibly use to describe herself. The true profundities of her emotions covered up under a layer of deadness and ice that was impenetrable and impervious.

Holly had long since learnt to control her emotions, suppressing those that would lead to trouble, and using those that she needed to wield her gift as a weapon and a shield. She had learnt not to show what she was feeling on the inside on the outside for others to use and her only protection had been a mask of indifference.

One she had firmly fixed into place as she watched Professor McGonagall argue with some wizards and witches in pale green and yellow robes.

St Mungo's had not been what she was expecting either, but then she wasn't entirely sure what she had been expecting.

Eventually, though they were escorted into Janus Thickey ward.

Lily Potter was sitting on the bed looking at the ceiling.

Her mother seemed untroubled by their presence, or even aware that they were in fact there.

She just sat silently, head tilted ever so slightly, almost as if she was listening to something only she could hear. Her lips curved ever so slightly upwards into what you could perceive as a smile.

Holly chose to see it as a smile. It made her mother look peaceful, happy and content even as she sat there. Completely unaware of what was going on around her.

It made her shift on her feet uncomfortably. Once upon a time she had dreamt of her parents. Imagined every detail of them. While she had known they were dead, or at least dead according to her aunt, she had still done it. In her dreams, her father had been a fireman, a hero that rescued people from the burning flames that engulfed them. He had been kind, caring and loved both her and her mother dearly. Her mother had been a doctor, saving people's lives on a daily basis. It was how they had met.

Nowhere in her dreams had she dreamt they would be stuck in a hospital lost in their own minds, alive, if not well.

"Lily" Professor McGonagall's voice was very gentle. "I've brought Holly to see you. Your daughter," She touched Holly's shoulder.

Not that she needed a push.

Holly walked forward and felt almost as if she was dreaming.

Her mum looked up at her. Her emerald green eyes were wide and glazed. The same eyes that she had. She hadn't known that. For a moment she looked as if she was looking straight through her. She had dark red hair.

One hand reached shakily and touched her cheek.

"Pretty," her mum whispered, "So bright, like starlight. For all to see. They whisper, whisper about you. Bright light, they call to you, but you don't hear, so they weep and weep. The girl with the death coloured eyes does not hear them."

Holly frowned, "What does that mean?"

"You must understand Miss Potter; she was tortured until her mind broke. Very little of what she says makes any sort of sense, even perhaps to herself. The fact she is even talking is something of an achievement, mostly she is silent," The Healer answered, speaking up for the first time since they had entered the room.

Holly nodded once but pushed aside any other questions as her father walked in. She looked like him, the same black messy hair, he wore glasses too. He shook her hand but said nothing to her. Only paced, up and down, whispering to something or someone. Nothing made very much sense though she did catch the odd word here and there.

Her chest ached, looking at him, looking at both of them. _Seeing_ them for the first time, touching them for the first time. Or at least the first time that she could remember.

"What happened to them?" she asked as they left her parents and the ward behind. Perhaps it was a question she should have asked before she had seen them, but Holly had been too caught on the idea of seeing them that she forgot to ask for the details. Now she wanted to know everything.

"Your parent's were a rather remarkable witch and wizard. Some would say among the brightest and most powerful of their generation. I have already told you that they were also firmly against You-Know-Who and his followers. Defying them whenever they could. From the moment they graduated Hogwarts they both dedicated themselves to the cause of fighting him. I know that they battled him three times personally and survived an accomplishment that not many witches or wizards have been able to achieve."

"But what happened?"

"The night You-Know-Who attacked your home, he brought followers with him. It is possible the move was a calculated blow against his enemies, taking out some of the strongest families that stood against him, but while he attacked, they also attacked. Much of that night, is a mystery. You must understand that Holly. Stating who cast what spell on who is impossible to answer, all I can say is during the fight that night, your parents ended up being tortured."

Professor McGonagall wrinkled her nose in disgust, "A particularly dark spell known as the Cruciatus curse was used. It is a particularly painful curse with its only known purpose to inflict great pain on another. Your parents...well you have seen the result of yourself that such a spell can cause."

"Is there no cure?"

The Professor sighed, sadly, "The human mind is a complex structure. Some believe that it is the most complex structure in the universe. I know a great many people have tried over the years to understand more about it, but as of yet, there is no cure. Not in a magical or muggle sense."

"But surely there was the protection of some kind?"

"Alas there was, but they were betrayed by one they trusted. There is a powerful charm that that involves someone promising to keep a secret. As long as that person is faithful the secret can't be wrestled from them even under torture."

"Someone willingly betrayed them."

"Yes."

Holly stayed quiet her mind racing with everything she had learnt. She couldn't wrap her head around half the things she had learned, but there were a few things that stood out in her mind clearer than crystal.

"Who...," she licked her lips, "who was responsible?"

"The ones in the attack, Bellatrix Lestrange, Rodolphus Lestrange, Rabastan Lestrange and Barty Crouch Jr. The friend who betrayed them was called Sirius Black."

The names burned in her mind and anger stirred deep inside her. She could almost feel her whole body shake with fury. A furious wind whipped around inside of her. Outside though she insured her face was smooth of the inner turmoil. Ensuring her mask of indifference was firmly in place as her mind started to race with ideas.

"What happened to them?"

"The Lestranges and Crouch were arrested at the scene, there wasn't much left of your house after the backlash of magic and You-Know-Who's disappearance. They were disorientated and unable to escape. The Aurors that turned up were quickly able to round them up, but of course, Alice and Frank were dead, Lily and James were incapable of answering any questions, and there were two one-year-olds in considerable distress. It was a mess."

"It is speculated you got your own scar that night as well."

Involuntarily her hand rose to touch her forehead, her fingers tracing the long lightning bolt scar. Her aunt had spat at her 'that she received it during the car crash' when she had dared to question it, along with claiming it to be ugly.

It was ugly. Holly couldn't deny that, but she had accepted it as part of who she was, now though Holly wished she could get rid of it. Hide it away. Sear it off her skin if such a thing was possible.

"What about Black?" the words dripped with heated anger that surprised her.

"He was confronted by another friend of your parents, Peter Pettigrew for his crime. There was a duel and Peter was killed, along with thirteen muggles. Sirius was eventually apprehended and is also imprisoned."

Holly stopped listening, her emotions twisting and turning and the numbness that had hidden them deep inside of her cracked, allowing them to pour forth.

 _She hated, hated, hated!_

Imprisoned they may be, but _that_ wasn't good enough. They needed to pay. They had to pay.

* * *

Holly wasn't sure what to make of Goblins, or Gringotts or the idea she had mounds and mounds of gold coins buried beneath London's streets.

Okay maybe buried was the wrong term, but either way, they were deep below the streets.

Already her mind was racing at the endless possibilities of just what she would be able to do with that money. It was perhaps why she was caught slightly off guard by a Goblin stepping in front of her. A mistake on her part as she was usually better aware of when someone was approaching her very little.

Holly stared at the Goblin.

The Goblin stared back.

She knew she was being rude and yet she couldn't help it. She had never seen anything like him before.

Neither of them made any move to speak first, and Holly was more than aware of Professor McGonagall's curious gaze on them. Without saying a word, the goblin shoved something into her hand before leading them _out_ of her vault and back into the cart that had carried them there in the first place.

Holly looked down in surprise.

It was a letter.

A thick letter, with her name neatly written on the front envelope.

 _Had it been inside the vault and I hadn't noticed. Where did it come from? Who sent it?_

They were questions though that would have to wait as Professor McGonagall stepped into the cart and both teacher and goblin looked at her expectantly. Shoving it into her pockets, Holly scurried after them.

* * *

 **XXX**

* * *

It was with somewhat a sad acceptance that Minerva McGonagall had come to the conclusion that Holly Potter would not be going to Gryffindor.

Her eyes had lit with a burning light in them as she had taken in every sight and sound she could of Diagon Alley.

The girl had practically inhaled the Alley if such a thing was possible. From the moment they had stepped out of Gringotts with a bag full of coins it took all of her will to rein her in.

Her excitement; reminding Minerva that despite her appearances Holly Potter was still an eleven-year-old child...deep inside.

It was perhaps the most childish behaviour she had seen from the girl, so far. They had barely entered Flourish and Blotts before the girl shot off with an impertinent curiosity she had come to recognise as being a core part of Ravenclaws. Not that the other houses were not curious, far from it, but Ravenclaws had to understand everything, right down to the nitty-gritty details that most people would not even consider as being important.

She watched in some amusement as the girl manoeuvred her way through the shelves, pulling books at random and adding them to her growing pile. In this instant, she reminded her so much of Lily it almost hurt.

Minerva approved undoubtedly of some of the books she chose, every one of them educational in some way, whether to help in school or give her more insight into the Wizarding World than she had the time to give her. She listened to suggestions and smiled her appreciation until she felt satisfied she had enough to keep her going.

After the bookshop, the girl must have slipped away from her several times before she found her to pull her back on track. Several trinkets, toys and old books were bought in that meantime.

It was this that gave Minerva the impression that Holly Potter could very well find a home in the Slytherin House as quickly as she could in the Ravenclaw. Determined, and focused she pushed forward chasing her goals, regardless of the obstacles that stood in her way. This instance Minerva found that she, herself, was, in fact, the barrier as she once again pulled Holly away from a shop that Holly had no need to be in for school supplies as she purchased a few more trinkets.

"I want to learn. I want to understand." Holly answered in a somewhat simple way when Minerva actually asked her what it was she intended to do with everything she was purchasing.

A small voice in the back of her mind told her she was too soft, she hardly ever let muggle-borns have this much freedom the first time they entered Diagon Alley, but the way Holly's face lit up instantly made Minerva realise she would happily spend all day here if she had to. She doubted the girl had ever really had the chance to ever indeed be free and in her own element.

 _A little fun and freedom never hurt anyone._

She watched as the girl listened in silent fascination as the apothecary shopkeeper explained the difference between certain ingredients and when they would best to be used.

A smile graced her own lips as she fired questions at the craftsman who designed the many magical trunks before purchasing her own, and Minerva found herself all but laughing out loud as Holly Potter ran circles around various peddlers attempting to sell her things.

Eventually, it came to the last item on her list...a wand.

Ollivander did his usual spiel when it came to matching a wand to a witch or wizard. The tape measure acting on its own accord while he muttered about the wand choosing the wizard.

And so began the process of actually trying the wands.

She lost count at how many Holly held in her hand only for it to be snatched seconds later. Some produced sparkles; others destroyed something in its path.

"Difficult customer I see, well I have yet to be defeated, Miss Potter, and today won't be the day I will be. I will find a match for you...mark my words," Ollivander muttered half to himself, half to the girl.

He produced more and more wands until a match was found.

Minerva could almost feel it in the air. Like everything stood to attention the moment Holly Potter's hand grasped the handle. The air almost sang with... _magic._ The wand itself seemed to emanate a bright luminous light that lit the entire shop up. She almost had to shield her eyes.

"Oh bravo!" Ollivander clapped, "I do believe we have found you a match. An interesting match and an unexpected one. I had thought it would go to another, but the wand chooses the witch or wizard. Holly - wand 11" nice and supple, with a core of a phoenix. I do believe Miss Potter we will be expecting many great things from you, many great things."

Minerva frowned slightly but pushed the thoughts from her mind before taking hold of Holly and ushering her out of the shop. Ollivander was cryptic at the best of times, but even for him, that was cryptic.

* * *

 **XXX**

* * *

The Dursleys were afraid of her now.

She could see it in their eyes whenever any of them dared to meet her gaze. Of course, they had been afraid of her before; their behaviour towards her was how they coped with that fear. Lashing out and hoping she would shrivel under their weight.

Holly found now she cared even less for them than she had in the years she had been unaware that what she was doing was in fact magic.

They held no meaning, no significance, or importance.

It had been a slip of the tongue indeed on her part, she hadn't meant to mention her room under the cupboard, but when she had moved towards it to store her new things Professor McGonagall had exploded.

She had been right on one account; _she_ was not a person she wanted to cross...ever.

Words were exchanged, some incredibly vicious on both parties side until finally she found herself packing her things up and taking them to Dudley's second room. Dudley had cried but found himself for the first time in his life, ignored.

Professor McGonagall had stayed only long enough after that to _change_ the room to suit more her tastes and place more wards on the door stopping all but her from entering. It was why she now found herself lying on a slightly bigger single bed, with walls painted green and the night sky on her ceiling. She loved every inch of it.

Her books lay scattered across the bed, open on random pages that caught her interest, ink and parchment neatly stored on her bedside cabinet as she slowly began practising writing with the blasted thing.

It was only now as she looked up at the ceiling that she remembered the goblin and the envelope he had stuck in her hand.

Pulling it out of her pocket she carefully examined it. Her name was written neatly on the front, the y's curving with a feminine touch.

She frowned.

Who could have written to her?

She took a deep breath.

 _Open the letter._

With trembling hands, she carefully opened the letter pulled out the parchment and unfolded it.

 _My dearest Holly..._

She ran one hand over the elegantly written words not wanting to blink lest everything disappear.

Tears ran freely down her cheeks as she made herself more comfortable to read the letter.

Her mother had written this.

Her _mother_!

Even through the tears, a small smile crept across her lips; she finally had a piece of her mother, words that had been meant for her. And while they hadn't explained anything at all they had undeniably given her something she had never had before.

The knowledge that her _mother_ and _father_ had loved her had really and truly _loved_ her.

She turned to the final piece of parchment and frowned.

There was a set of complex looking equations.

Holly had enjoyed maths to some degree while she had been primary school. It had been logical something she could really sink her teeth into, but she was sure she had never seen anything like this before. From what she could see they hadn't be solved.

Did her mother expect her to understand it?

Or did she expect her to find a way to understand it?

It was a puzzle, a puzzle left by her mother and Holly did love puzzles.

She looked at them again, but nothing made any sense to her, nor did she have a eureka moment.

She wasn't sure exactly how long she just looked at the page in front of her, absorbing them in her mind and attempting to put them in some order that didn't seem so scrambled or random. It was like some part of her deep down recognised them, but it was just out of reach.

Sighing in frustration, she put down the equations and reread her mother's letter again hoping for some sort of clue.

She found none. It was something she was going to have to work on. Mentally she added it to the list that was already forming in her mind.

Holly couldn't deny that she had goals. Goals that had come to light as the day rolled on.

It had started out as two, but now it would include a third.

One she was going to solve her mother's puzzle.

Two, she was going to make those responsible for causing so much pain to her family pay.

Three, she was going to cure her parents.

It would take time, Holly was a realist. She knew nothing about magic, she would need to learn. Time and study.

She would take the time. She would study everything, learn everything. She would become the best she could be. Better than anyone. No avenue would be unturned. She would understand, and she would succeed.

It was a silent promise she made to herself and one she knew she would keep.

 _Many things seem impossible only so long as one does not attempt them._

She would attempt what others dared not, and she would succeed where others failed.

Holly nodded in determination, flipped herself over to lie on her stomach and picked up the first book and began to read.

* * *

XXX

* * *

2018 hasn't been my year. I won't bore with the details but what started out as something minor in the sense of me thinking I had a few sickness bugs at the beginning of the year resulted in me being diagnosed with a rare neurological disorder by the end of April. Between the symptoms of the condition and the medication finding the time to write has been an impossible task though Daughter of the Blood and the characters I am using in my AU world of Harry Potter has never left me. I am slowly starting to find a balance between everything and starting to get back to normal, though there are good weeks and bad weeks and I have been working on the next chapter for Daughter of the Blood - though I have fallen into a few glitches with having such a long time away from the story. The next chapter isn't ready, in fact it has had me wanting to tear my hair out and at one point restart everything until I came to the conclusion that it was just that chapter I was struggling with and not my story and overall plan, I just need to find the character's voices inside my head again and get things more sorted, I am almost there. It will be completed as soon as I am able to do so and I can only apologise for the long wait in-between everything and I hope that those who have enjoyed the story and still enjoy the story will continue to do so. I can't thank you enough for your patience. If nothing I have learnt this year you never know what is around the corner.

While my brain is struggling with the next chapter it has also decided to add another story to the mix as well, an idea that hasn't left me for a good few months and no matter how much I have tried to ignore it, I ended up writing the first couple of chapters.

Again I can't promise when updates will be or how regularly they will be but please know that Daughter of the Blood and this story will be completed eventually.


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you to all who have read, reviewed, and added this story to alerts and favourites. I am glad you all liked it, and I hope you continue to enjoy the story.

I hope you had a wonderful time over Christmas, however you chose to spend or how you celebrate it and I hope you have a wonderful New Year as well.

All mistakes are mine and mine alone, please do not hesitate to point anything out.

* * *

 **Chapter 2:-**

"Well, there you are, girl. Platform nine - platform ten. Your platform should be somewhere in the middle, but they don't seem to have built it yet, do they?"

Uncle Vernon smiled at her. Holly would go as far to say it was a manic kind of smile, twisted and gleeful over someone else's misfortune. She had hated that smile over the years, but today she had little desire to acknowledge it or the fact her uncle was still talking to her.

"We don't want you back over the holidays, do you hear me?"

"Yes," she answered when it was required because not responding would cause more trouble than it was worth.

"Have a good term," he laughed, "if you get there," he added as he walked away, leaving her alone in front of the two plastic signs stating the numbers.

She wasn't concerned, or worried. Professor McGonagall had explained to her how to get onto the platform when she had first handed her the tickets for the train. And when Holly had questioned why have it somewhere so blatantly obvious, she had gone into an explanation about oblivators on standby and charms to make it less noticeable by the _muggles._

She relaxed a little and let her eyes wander, seeing beyond what she was expected to see, it was almost like a 'something out the corner of her eye' lifted, and she could see men and women dressed in robes, pushing luggage with cats and owls.

With a small smile of her own, she muttered, "idiot", to herself before pushing her own trolley towards the barrier slipping through unseen by those around her, until she came out on the other side.

Holly couldn't help but gape in wonder.

A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. Holly gripped her wand concealed in her pocket, close to her hip, not that the measly knowledge she had of the spells that she had gotten to work would be much use to her, but its presence offered her a sense of security and comfort Holly hadn't realised she had needed until it had been there.

Holly still found it more comfortable reaching for her magic the way she had been reaching for it in the last five years - as instinctively as breathing.

If though there was a way she could keep learning to use both her wand and her magic without her wand then she would never be defenceless. Holly would have an ace up her sleeve that nobody would know about.

An ace Holly was sure she would need one day.

Because as much as she had allowed herself to read her school books and practice spells, Holly had spent an equal amount of time learning about the Wizarding World on the whole. She had discovered more about the War than perhaps Professor McGonagall had ever expected her to do so. It hadn't taken Holly long to learn how to reach Diagon Alley again without the aid of an adult or even without her Aunt and Uncle noticing she had been gone for the day.

More grateful than ever Professor McGonagall had insisted Holly purchase the: - 'A Muggleborn's Questions to the Wizarding World' a book that acted as an essential guidebook to the Wizarding World. Holly had devoured it in a week, and it was on: - _Chapter 12:- A Muggleborn's Guide to Magical Transport,_ that Holly had found her answer.

The Knight Bus.

Several trips later and she had more books, more magical items and several subscriptions to various things including the Daily Prophet that would keep her well informed with the goings-on of the Wizarding World, but it had also allowed her to request old papers during the time of the war.

A War that had changed her life forever, and the lives of many others. She hadn't lived in the Wizarding World in the years that followed the supposed end, but she needed the information around that time, just as she needed the information during the war.

The information had proved useful. Holly now knew more about her parents and the Potters than she had ever done so before, it also provided information on the Lestranges, Crouch Jr and Sirius Black. It speculated precisely what had happened the night Voldemort, Holly refused to fear his name, had been defeated. Though Holly couldn't help but shake the feeling that _defeated_ was too broad of a term - it didn't mean he had been killed, but it was clear he had disappeared that night.

She had learnt about Death Eaters, their crimes, their punishments and who had claimed to be under a Curse and had no control over their actions.

Holly learnt every name of every potential enemy to her, her plans and her parents. The War may have ended almost ten years ago, but that didn't mean that the ideals and beliefs of _his_ followers had just disappeared. Far more likely that they were whispered in the dark waiting to see the light of day again.

And Holly would be ready should that happen. Would be prepared should anything interfere with her plans in finding a cure for her parents.

It was why as she pushed her way through the crowds, gripping her wand in her pocket that she searched desperately for an empty compartment. Few people noticed her, but then a lone figure in a sea of people was far easier to slip by unnoticed.

The train was quieter than the platform, and she was grateful to find an empty compartment at the back of the train, out of the way of everyone.

Holly sank into the seat with a sigh of relief when she had finally secured her trunk in place, two books lay next to her and a small journal and pen. She had been practising everyday writing with a quill, but the idea of jotting any notes down on a moving train with ink didn't appeal to her, and instead had opted for a simple muggle pen.

Tucking her feet under her, she picked up her book, _An Introduction to the Human Anatomy,_ and started reading.

She needed to learn everything she could about the human body in a general sense before she could start understanding how magic interacted with the _body_ , and how you could heal the body with magic.

Not to mention she needed a better understanding of the curse that had been used against her parents in the first place.

The Cruciatus Curse.

Holly doubted she would be able to find much information on her own to begin with, which was why she was leaving it as her third priority on the list in respect to healing her parents. First, she needed the understanding of the human body that went beyond the mere basics that her primary school teacher taught her.

 _Baby steps. This can't be rushed; it is going to take time._

Scribbling a few notes down in her journal, Holly found herself engrossed in her task at hand that she barely noticed the train moving. The rocking of the carriage a distant feeling as her mind attempted to make sense of the text that she was absorbing with every breath.

* * *

"Firs'-years! Firs'-years over here!"

Holly couldn't help but stare at the gigantic man calling to the first years. Waving an equally huge lantern. Holly ignored all the children around her; she ignored their bumbling forms as they spoke with one another, jostling for position amongst the crowds as they followed the giant down from the train to what appeared to be boats on a lake.

She ended up sharing with a brown-haired girl whose blue eyes pierced her sharply when she looked at her, a tall, dark-skinned boy with even darker eyes that looked sombre and a smiling blonde haired boy, who offered warm hello's but said little else. No one seemed eager to break the ice between them, and so they sat in silence as the boats bobbed forward along the lake.

Holly gaped along with the others when the boat sailed around a corner and Hogwarts came into view. It was at that moment that Holly immediately fell in love.

It shone, Holly thought, a beacon in the dark. A symbol of strength and hope. Holly could understand at that moment why Voldemort had never dared attack it during the war. He would have been foolish to do so. It would have cost him, and so it remained a sanctuary in a time of war. Untouchable by outside evil.

Perched atop a high mountain, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, with many turrets and towers.

It signalled possibilities, at least to her. A place where she would be able to explore all of those possibilities, whether in secret or out in the open.

It was beautiful.

"Yes, it is." A voice agreed beside her, Holly turned to look at the boy who had spoken, realising that she had perhaps voiced that particular opinion out loud.

The tall, dark-haired boy looked at her before speaking again, "Blaise Zabini," he introduced.

"Holly Potter," she answered after a moment.

She caught his eyes widening in slight recognition but he made no further comment, it was something she could appreciate whether it was done out of consideration for her or just because he had nothing else to say. It was an unnerving thought really, the idea of other people knowing about her family's circumstances.

Holly didn't like it, but there was nothing she could do to change it either, all she could so was simply accept whatever anyone decided to throw at her in regards to her circumstances and hit back hard should anyone desire to hurt her with it.

She politely turned to the other two sitting in the boat, as the small voice in the back of her mind argued against her instinctive desire to not want to make friends and avoid all contact, warning her she needed to at least be polite and _try_ no matter how much she wished not to _try anything of the sort._ And waited for them to give their names.

The brown haired girl murmured quietly, "Daphne Greengrass," while the boy who smiled warmly and had offered hellos was 'Anthony Goldstein".

"Heads down!" the giant yelled as the boats reached the cliff carrying them through a curtain of ivy which hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They moved along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle until they reached a kind of underground harbour, where they all tried to clamber out at once onto the rocks.

There was a tension on the air, nervous excitement that wired through everyone. Holly could feel her stomach turning, and yet it felt as if she was coming home for the first time ever.

They followed the light of the giant's lamp up a passageway before coming out at least onto the smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.

They walked up the flight of stone steps and crowded around the massive oak front door where the giant knocked three times on the castle door.

The door swung open almost at once, and Holly saw Professor McGonagall standing there waiting for them. Holly felt her shoulders ease as she saw a familiar face. The tension she hadn't realised she had been feeling slipping away.

"The firs'-years, Professor McGonagall," the giant greeted.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

 _So the giant's name is Hagrid,_ Holly thought silently as she followed Professor McGonagall into the castle.

Holly soaked in the sight of the Entrance Hall memorised by the stone walls lit with flaming torches, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them which she had no doubt led to the upper floors. She could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from the doorway to the right, and Holly felt her nerves flutter like butterflies. Steeling herself for whatever was to come and determined that no matter what happened she would not fail she waited patiently with the other students as Professor McGonagall welcomed them to Hogwarts and explained that the start of term banquet would begin as soon as they had been sorted into their houses. She went further to define the four Houses in Hogwarts and the points system that seemed to play an important part, along with the emphasis that their House would be their family.

The moment she left the small chamber they had all been gathered in the nervous whispers Holly as her fellow students swapped wild theories on how they would possibly be sorted.

One thing became clear at least in Holly's opinion was that no one had a clear idea of what happened, as the possibilities ranged from 'wrestling trolls' and 'testing one's spell ability'.

Holly could even hear one girl not too far away from her muttering under her breath all the spells she could possibly think of that she might be asked to perform.

Holly hadn't given much thought into the Houses and which she felt like she belonged. Her parents had been in Gryffindor, but Holly wasn't sure that the house of the noble and brave suited her, though it would be nice to be in the same house that her parents had been in.

A scream cut through her trail of thought and Holly blinked in surprise as what seemed to be twenty-ghosts streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to each other and hardly looking at the first years.

They seemed to be arguing.

Until one of them noticed them all staring up wide-eyed at them.

"New students!"

And no sooner had they been greeted they were soon all wishing them good luck and desire to be seeing them in _their_ former house until the sharp voice of Professor McGonagall cut across them.

"The Sorting Ceremony's about to start form a line and follow me."

One by one they formed a line until Professor McGonagall was satisfied and led them into the Great Hall.

Holly had never imagined such a strange and splendid place. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles which were floating in midair over four long tables where the rest of the students were sitting. It was beautiful, and Holly was aware of hundreds of eyes on her, of course, they weren't on her personally, but as a collective whole, the older students watched the new first years as they walked passed before stopping in front of another long table where the teachers sat.

It was here where Professor McGonagall silently placed a three-legged stool in the centre and what looked to be an old looking hat on top of it.

Holly blinked in surprise. She certainly hadn't been expecting that, and while she had read _Hogwarts a History,_ she couldn't recall anything about a hat.

And then just as suddenly that hat twitched, and a rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth, and the hat began to sing.

* * *

XXX

* * *

Minerva took the time to steel herself during the Sorting Hat's song. She had lost count how many Sorting Ceremony's she had taken part in and yet still her hands shook, something she had told herself sternly was entirely unsuitable for her age. And yet as she glanced at this batch of first-years before she couldn't help but feel that something was different. She had seen Holly amongst the others, looking far to calm in comparison to the other eleven-year-olds. The only one that seemed to match her lack of concern was the tall, dark haired, dark skinned boy standing next to her. Zabini. _He_ looked like his mother and Minerva expected nothing less from the 'Black Widow's' son. There was another Weasley this year too, and a Malfoy and a Nott, not to mention the Boy-Who-Lived.

There was no denying that this year group would be an interesting lot and yet it was perhaps because of that she was most apprehensive about it. Minerva was grateful though when it finally came to calling the first name out she was able to say it without her nerves showing.

"Abbott, Hannah,"

The blonde haired pig-tailed girl stumbled out of the line and put the hat on was somewhat predictable, but Minerva still smiled warmly when the hat shouted out 'Hufflepuff!' allowing a brief moment of cheers and applauds before continuing with the next name.

"Bones, Susan,"

One by one she stood back and watched them come up and place the sorting hat onto their heads. Minerva could see who was nervous and needed that extra reassurance, with a comforting smile. She smiled when the Brown girl became her first Gryffindor.

The rest of the Sorting hustled past as she worked her way down the list, there was one girl that seemed to take the longest before the Hat finally cried 'Gryffindor' and she mentally noted to keep an eye on the girl to ensure she settled in into the house.

The H's passed, followed by the I's, J's, and K's until she finally called her second most awaited name on the list. A name that everyone was more than eager to see sorted. Out the corner of her eye, she saw Albus sit up that little straighter as his whole attention was fixed onto "Longbottom, Neville".

The rest of the hall reacted almost as one to the name, whispers stirring through the hall with a buzz, and soon Neville Longbottom was stepping forward, almost nervously.

" _That's him,_ The Neville Longbottom?"

"He looks so pale."

"I thought he would be taller."

She felt sorry for him as he almost jogged up to the stool, carrying the weight of other people's expectations on his shoulders. Everyone had an idea of who and what the Boy-Who-Lived would be like and Minerva often noted that people very rarely met those expectations that were placed upon them. Neville certainly had his father's eyes, but it was his mother's round face he had, with soft features that hadn't yet lost the baby fat and ears that were a little too big for his face. He would either grow into his features or he wouldn't but only time would determine that fact.

The hall waited eagerly as the Hat took its time on the boy's head, and it did take its time. Minerva could see his fist curled tense by his sides as he deliberated with the hat, _she_ knew where the boy wanted to go, but it seemed the hat was taking even longer to decide than it had with the Granger girl.

And then the hat finally shouted "Gryffindor", and her house erupted in cheers and the boy smiled brightly as he took the hat off his head and walked towards his table. She could see the tension ease from his shoulders ever so slightly showing to her just how tense he had been. Minerva saw again out the corner of her eye Albus relax ever so slightly, at the result as he eased back into his chair, but her attention was soon back on the list as she called the next name, and the next.

Until finally she called the name that _she_ had been most eager to sort, and Minerva found herself staring like an anxious parent herself when the hat lowered over Holly Potter's head, hoping that she was at least wrong in her assessment in the girl and she would indeed be sorted into Gryffindor.

* * *

XXX

* * *

Holly was aware of the eyes of the other students on her as the Sorting Hat slipped over her head.

While it wasn't with the same interest, the _Boy-Who-Lived_ had received; thankfully, it was still interest as there had been with all new potential housemates.

Holly shuffled slightly on the stool under the weight before she caught herself and forced herself to stay still.

Attention of any sort was not a good thing.

The Dursleys hated her bringing any more attention to herself than absolutely necessary, but then they hated the fact she existed, gaining attention from others grated merely on their nerves that little extra.

 _Ah, Miss Potter, quite the mind you have here. Quite the ambition._

Holly was glad to see she didn't jump the moment the voice echoed in her mind, of course, that hat would be able to read minds as well as being able to talk. And wasn't that an unnerving thought, it would know her desires, her goals...everything instantly.

A chuckle filled her ears.

 _I can't tell you whether you will be successful in your quest, it is not my job to tell you what can or cannot be done. I can tell you I have looked in many young minds, and some of them have wanted to do impossible things, and they have succeeded. I can tell you that whether you achieve all depends on you._

 _I won't fail,_ she answered honestly. And she wouldn't, no matter how long it took she would not _fail_ to heal her parents.

She felt the Hat smile at her, or at least it felt like a smile in her mind before it murmured to her, _and there is a part of your soul bare for all to see should they wish to take the time to see it. Your determination, your drive burns through you like molten. I fear the day it erupts._

 _Why?_

 _I see far more than what you want to do Miss Potter, I know what you are._

 _And what am I?_ She asked hesitantly, not sure she wanted the answer.

 _A rarity,_ the hat chuckled, _now Hufflepuff is out as is Gryffindor, while I cannot deny you have the potential to be loyal you have never had anybody to be loyal to. And you are in fact quite brave; never doubt that for a moment, but the open honesty that can be found in both houses would not suit your more private nature. Which brings us Slytherin and Ravenclaw?_

 _Are you asking for my opinion?_

 _Shhh, I'm thinking. I cannot deny you're ambitious; there aren't many that have already set their goals before them no matter how impossible the road ahead of them may be, not to mention your thirst to prove yourself, my, my that is interesting._

Holly snorted at the thought.

 _You have a...hunger for knowledge, one I cannot decide whether it is solely for your own goal or you hunger knowledge as a whole. So where my dear girl shall you be sorted?_

 _Now you're asking for my opinion?_

 _I am giving you a chance to chose, Ravenclaw or Slytherin._

 _I want to be left alone; I want to be able to study what I want without the questions and continually looking over my shoulder._

 _Ravenclaw it shall be, but then you could in Slytherin to...no people would watch your every move; suspicious of the House of Snakes...I believe the best place for you is..._ "RAVENCLAW!"

The house closest to the wall on the left cheered and applauded, but she didn't pay it any attention as the Hat whispered parting words, _the path you chose stands on the edge, stray but a little and you will fall, and all will be lost. Noble a course to heal your parents yet your thirst for vengeance drives you equally, and it is that drive that puts you at risk. Only you can choose which path you will walk. One must be careful Miss Potter when fighting monsters lest they become a monster. And if thou gaze long into an abyss, the abyss will also gaze into thee. I fear the potential inside of you Miss Potter, even as I rejoice at the potential._

Holly blinked in surprise, eyeing the hat suspiciously as it was taken off her head, though she had no time to ask what it had meant by that warning.

Her mind churned as she walked towards the blue and bronze coloured house, aware that her own robes had changed to match the house colours. People shook her hand and greeted her with warm smiles as they offered her congratulations before attention settled back onto the stool and the next potential housemate.

The Sorting came to an end with 'Zabini' who joined the Slytherin House. Albus Dumbledore rose to his feet, beaming down at them from where he stood at the head of the table, "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts!" he said, "Before we begin our banquet I would like to say a few words. And they are Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you."

He sat back down as the older students clapped and cheered. Holly blinked in surprise at the man though from the looks her fellow first years were also giving him she was not alone.

"Yes, he is quite mad. Brilliant, but mad all the same." A brown haired boy said as he leaned closer to them.

"Damian Perriss!" hissed an older student further down the table, "Stop insulting our Headmaster."

"I wasn't insulting him, merely stating he is brilliant but mad," Perriss muttered more to himself than to anyone else, before reaching for a plate of sausages.

Holly couldn't believe at how full with food the dishes in front of her were... it was like magic in how it had appeared. She had never seen so many things she liked to eat on one table; roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and on the list went.

She hadn't exactly been starved while at the Dursleys unless they were attempting to provide a lesson for her, but the amount she had been allowed had been limited in comparison to the rest of the family. For a brief second, she watched in amazement as her housemates helped themselves and no one berated them for taking too much.

"Not eating Potter?" a boy with reddish brown hair asked.

She blinked in surprise at him before answering, "Trying to decide what to choose."

He laughed, "Welcoming Feast can always be a little overwhelming with the number of choices available to you. I promise you it's all good food though, provided you pick what you actually like to eat."

She watched as he piled roast potatoes on to his plate before reaching for them herself, adding slices of bacon, sausages and a variety of vegetables.

"By the way, welcome to Hogwarts and the Ravenclaw House, I'm Robert Hilliard, a fifth-year prefect."

"Thank you," she muttered between mouthfuls of food.

She listened to the chatter of her housemates as she ate her food, they all seemed excited, they chatted about the classes they were most eager for and what magic they wanted to learn.

A dark-haired boy who had introduced himself as Entwhistle, along with admitting his complete surprise over ever getting his Hogwarts letter and magic in general as his family were utter 'muggle' shared concerns over learning magic.

"It doesn't matter that you are Muggle-born, as long as you put the work and effort in to learn then you can achieve great things," Hilliard assured, "besides the Sorting Hat put you in Ravenclaw, which is the house the cleverest witches and wizards live, not that we like to boast of course."

"Oh of course," one of the other older students snorted.

"What's a muggle-born?" Entwhistle asked.

"It's what we call people born to non-magical parents, or rather it is the politically correct term. _Some_ people don't feel they have to be politically correct though and prefer to use more derogatory terms," Hilliard answered, a thoughtful look crossing his face as he communicated silently with another prefect before turning back to the first years.

"I don't want to dampen the spirits of anyone tonight, but a well-informed mind is the best security against the contagion of folly and vice. There are certain members in our society that are unkind towards those born to muggle parents. It is a rather complicated subject really, that goes back more centuries than I can recall, but bringing it to point they will try to use your lack of magical parents against you."

"It's complete Hogwash if you ask me, but it is _there._ That burning hatred directed towards Muggle-borns and muggles in general. Try not to let it eat you up inside though, _you_ have every right to be here. However, if you have too many problems, please do not hesitate to reach out to the House Prefects and we will do everything in our power to deal with the situation," the older student who had scolded Perriss early said.

"Of course the best defence is knowledge as they say. Learn all you can and prove those who dare to question you belonging here," Hilliard smiled at them, "not that I am promoting violence in any way." He added with a wink.

Holly stayed silent. It fit with what Professor McGonagall had told her, the core of the war that had torn Wizarding Britain apart for over a decade. She supposed the Wizarding World was no different to the muggle one. There was still hatred, fear and idiots that hated anything different that didn't fit into their ideas in how the world should be. _Like the Dursleys._

Wasn't that an uncomfortable thought, her parents had been attacked by witches and wizards who fully supported the annihilation of Muggle-borns, like her mother, and muggles alike, when the Dursleys felt the exact same towards Wizards and Witches.

Holly tuned out the others as the conversation turned to lighter subjects, contempt to study the Head Table.

The Ravenclaw Head of House and the older student had informed them it was Professor Flitwick, a small wizard that was of similar stature to that of the Goblins she had seen at Gringotts. He was happily chatting to another member of staff and seemed to be buzzing with excitement. That would perhaps be useful, to her at least, happy people tended to see happiness everywhere, all one needed to do was smile just right, and they instantly presumed all was right in the world.

There was Professor McGonagall, looking as _stern_ as ever, keeping a close eye on the Gryffindor table. A glance towards that table confirmed that perhaps the Sorting Hat had been right to cross it off as a suitable place for her. While it would have been nice to have belonged to the house her parents had been in, it was by far the loudest and boisterous table in the Great Hall.

Holly turned her attention back to the Head Table. There was a man in a purple turban that looked nervous and twitchy as a man with oily dark hair spoke softly with him.

As if aware of eyes on him, the man with oily dark hair turned and looked in her direction. Their eyes met, and for a brief moment, she felt the Great Hall slipping away from her. She could feel the intense hatred that poured forth from the man's eyes before he looked away first.

The Dursleys, in their own way, had taught her many things, and one thing they had shown her above all else was hatred. Especially in recognising it when it was directed her way.

And that man with the oily dark hair, hooked nose and sallow skin hated her.

"Who's that?" Holly asked above the chatter of her fellow first years.

"That?" A fifth-year prefect called Clearwater said, following her finger to where she was pointing and shook her head a little, "Professor Snape, Head of Slytherin and Potions Master. You do not want to get on his bad side."

 _Too late,_ she silently mused. Professor Snape seemed to hate her for some reason, and it was a hatred that burned far too hot for it to be over the House she belonged to. It was hatred much like the Dursleys that had years to fester and grow into an all-consuming force. She was sure she had never met the man before which she logically reasoned only gave one possible reason for _his_ intense hatred. Her parents.

Something had happened between him and her parents.

She felt her own anger uncoil inside her at the thought of her parents. Her mother with her far away eyes and hushed words of whispers and weeping. Her father who hadn't said a word and only paced lost in the darkness of his own mind.

She didn't care to what they may have done to incur Professor Snape's hatred, hatred he so easily transferred to her.

What did it matter in comparison to the hell that her parents were currently living in?

All around her, the chattering and possible friendships faded into insignificance. All that mattered was finding a way to cure her parents, and while political alliances she couldn't deny would be useful friendship was not significant.

Holly wouldn't break to this man's hatred.

She wouldn't bow to it.

She would soar where others wouldn't even dare to climb.

She could feel something vibrate deep inside her but paid it no mind as she thought and planned. Though even as she planned Holly couldn't shake the feeling, she was being watched.

* * *

The Ravenclaw dormitory was high in one of the castle towers. As morning light crept over the castle with the rising sun; Holly took a few moments to relish in the view. They overlooked the mountains, lake and forest and it was a beautiful sight. She knew in a few moments her fellow roommates would be rising, but for the moment she was by herself already dressed and enjoying the scenery.

Turning away from the window in her room Holly gathered her things into her bag that _she_ knew she would need for the day's lessons before exiting the room and descending the stairs to the common room.

It was empty, something she was grateful for before she walked towards the bookcases she had eyed up longingly the night before. They had all been too tired the night before to do much else than going to their assigned rooms and settle into bed.

Now though she had the time and the solitude to look at the books that rested on the shelves. She traced her fingers gently over the spines of some of them before picking one at random and moving to one of the tables to sit down.

'A Beginners Guide to Hermetic Magic', she had no idea what it was, but it sounded interesting. Opening the book she began to read.

She lost track of time as she read, but she was aware that people were passing through the common room.

"Crikey Potter, keen aren't you. Not even had your first lesson yet, and you have already started."

Holly looked up in surprise as Hilliard was standing the other side of the table; she spotted some of the first year boys waiting behind him.

"There is always an opportunity to learn," she replied.

"I won't fault that, but come on; I'm taking this lot down for breakfast why don't you join us. Don't want any of your first years getting lost now, Clearwater would have my head."

Reluctantly Holly shut the book, mentally noting the page she had gotten up to and the title of the book before returning it to its rightful place. The boys muttered 'mornings' to her which she returned with her own before they followed Hilliard out of the common room and down the spiralling staircase.

"What book did you choose? We fellow Ravenclaws have a tally going on what's the first book each first-year pulls off. I say it says a lot about the person to where their thought patterns are going," Hilliard explained as they walked.

"A Beginners Guide to Hermetic Magic," Holly replied.

Hilliard whistled, "Merlin! Potter, you don't start easy, do you? That's for sixth year and beyond and even then it isn't an area that many people choose to explore."

"I found it interesting, what little I understood. It brings together five different components of magic, Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, Ancient Runes and Arithmancy, together. They all work together in some way to produce the end result."

"It doesn't surprise me that you wouldn't understand most of it, and its seven different components of magic, more if you get deeper into the subject, but seven for the basics, which none of it is mind you. It is a really complicated branch of magic; you have to be top of your game in all seven components that slot together to get anything done, not to mention understanding the mechanisms of _how_ they work together."

"I didn't get that far, what are the other two components?" Holly asked

"Herbology and Astronomy. The position of the stars can have an effect and moon phases and everything really."

"Seven is a magic number," Goldstein said. Holly turned to look at him; she hadn't spoken to him since their shared boat journey. He gave her a warm smile as they walked into the Great Hall.

"That is true, something you will learn further on, and if you chose Arithmancy as a third-year elective then you will explore it in far more depth," Hilliard agreed.

"Don't scare them yet Hilliard, they haven't even had their first day of lessons, and you are already telling them about elective courses." An older boy laughed.

"I doubt they scare that easily Davies, besides Potter started it when she started reading about Hermetic Magic."

Davies whistled much like Hilliard did and looked at her in surprise.

"I'm sorry but what is Hermetic Magic?" Entwhistle asked, looking confused, "Professor McGonagall never mentioned anything like it when she was explaining the subjects that they would teach."

"It's not really taught at Hogwarts, at least not until you reach your sixth year," Davies answered

"It is otherwise known as Alchemy. It focuses on Elemental Transmutation or making permanent changes on the state of matter. But in truth, it is so much more than just turning lead into gold. It potentially can, in theory, do anything like creating magical items."

"Turn lead into gold!"

"It would take a lifetime I think, and I am certain there is only one known stone with that capability of such a feat," Davies replied.

Hilliard nodded in agreement, "It doesn't stop there though really, you're looking at Elemental Manipulation to a degree and Life-force manipulation. It was an Alchemist that developed a way to fuse an object into the body as a replacement of a limb. Not to mention Skele-grow, a potion that allows your body to re-grow bones, matching your DNA and everything, quite a few Healers have an understanding of the subject even if they don't class themselves as Alchemists."

Holly perked up instantly, she hadn't gotten too far into the book when Hilliard had interrupted her, the subject had been fascinating certainly, and useful should she be able to learn it, but the fact it had more impact on healing human bodies wasn't something she could ignore and would need to explore in further detail.

In her own time, of course, she couldn't wait until the sixth year before she started learning something that could benefit her parents in any way.

Mentally she added it to her list of things she needed to investigate further as her fellow first years chatted around her.

* * *

Holly found Anthony Goldstein walking alongside her as they made their way to their first lesson of the day. Their schedules had been passed around at breakfast and with following a prefect they had just enough time to collect the first half of the day's books.

"So Ravenclaw then?"

Holly blinked in surprise, "you seem surprised."

"Zabini and Greengrass, I had them pegged as Slytherin but you. I couldn't quite place you, which is unusual. I'm normally better at reading people."

"Don't sound too disappointed."

Goldstein smiled slightly, "I wouldn't say I am disappointed, I would say I'm intrigued. You're like a new puzzle to work out."

Inwardly Holly winced; she didn't want to be a new puzzle. Puzzle meant Goldstein would be paying more attention to her than she liked and Holly didn't want any attention being paid to her.

"You are going to be disappointed. I'm not interesting."

"I don't think I will be. See, already you are trying to tell me nothing is interesting about you which obviously means there is."

"I don't think it works like that."

"And yet this is the most you have spoken to any of the other housemates, besides Hilliard and to be honest, he didn't give you much choice."

Holly looked at the blonde haired boy walking alongside her. In the boat, all he had offered were warm hellos, besides that he had been just as quiet as the other two she had shared with. She hadn't paid that much attention at the Welcoming Feast to her Housemates though she had already learnt the names and faces of a few.

In truth, she knew nothing about him or why he had a sudden interest in her. An interest she wasn't sure how to get rid of.

Thankfully Holly was saved from responding as they reached their first lesson of the day, and hushed whispers filtered through the Ravenclaws.

"Can you see his scar?"

"Where is he?"

"Next to the red-haired boy?"

"I can't believe we have a lesson with the Boy-Who-Lived."

Holly walked into the classroom, her eyes finding the boy in question instantly. He was hard to miss, he wasn't looking up at anyone, in fact, Holly would say he was trying to make himself as small as possible. His shoulders were slumped and his head was down and in that second Holly could see the weight of everybody's expectations pressing down on him.

Mentally Holly shook her head as she moved towards the back of the classroom and slipped into a seat, she felt sorry for the boy, wanting so desperately to be invisible and not being able to.

Holly wasn't surprised when Goldstein took a seat next to her. It seemed Goldstein was going to be sticking close to her whether she liked it or not, Holly just hoped that she would be able to find a quiet corner in the castle to study to her heart's content.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts. Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

The warning hung heavy on the air of the classroom, and all anybody could do was sit and wait and see what would happen next.

Professor McGonagall didn't disappoint.

She transfigured her desk into a pig and Holly couldn't help but feel a sense of awe just as she had when the Professor had transfigured a vase into a bird.

"It is imperative that you understand the fundamental rules governing transfiguration because it is easier here than most branches of magic for something to go wrong," the Professor continued, "When transfiguring it is important to make firm and decisive wand movements or the Transfiguration will be unsuccessful."

Professor McGonagall turned to the blackboard and with a flick of her wand writing appeared.

Holly frowned as she scribbled down the formula that appeared. It wasn't a math formula or at least not in a way she understood a maths formula to be. She had no idea what it could be or even mean. Did the letters represent something else?

"In Transfiguration, one must always take into account the intended transformation T which will be directly influenced by A the bodyweight," Professor McGonagall explained, "An example of this would be, turning a button into a pig. There isn't enough mass of the original object to transfigure into the intended transformation. Bodyweight matters."

"The next following step in the sequence for correctly transfiguring your intended transformation," Professor McGonagall continued, "V is for Viciousness or in better terms, Will or Intent. You must want the transformation to happen; you must will it with viciousness into existence."

Holly quickly wrote notes down, trying to get a better understanding of the subject that seemed so fascinating.

"W is for Wand Power. A wand is a tool, a tool that allows you to use your magic efficiently. The spell and the wand movements must be controlled, firm and decisive, as I explained earlier. While important in all subjects, in Transfiguration without them you are welcoming a disaster to happen."

"C is for concentration. Focus. Awareness. You must be focused on every step, nothing should distract you."

"Z is for visualisation. You need to visualise every detail of your intended transformation as much as you need place a harness on your imagination. If you visualise a detail wrongly then what you create might be beautiful, but it will not be correctly transfigured."

Professor McGonagall ran through the Transfiguration formula again, adding additional parts that they needed to take into account, or clarifying further points. Between the Professor's input and the first couple of chapters on their textbook, Holly had more than a few pages of extensive notes though she couldn't say she was any clearer about putting everything from the theory into practice.

It was towards the end of the class that Professor McGonagall had them attempting their first transfiguration, turning a match into a needle.

They were of similar weight and size, but they were of different elemental materials, and Holly couldn't help but wonder if that would have an impact.

It was perhaps in that moment that Holly realised while magic came to her instinctively without structure and pure willpower when it came to her following the rules and using her wand she had a long way to go before she would be able to turn a pig into a desk. Let alone a match into a needle.

Only one in the class managed a partial transfiguration, a Gryffindor girl with bushy hair that practically swelled with pride upon receiving praise. Holly couldn't fault her and was more than happy to let others pull ahead and take the stage with their achievements. Something that her other Ravenclaws felt very put out by.

"Can you believe a Gryffindor beat us to it!" Corner huffed.

"Only partially. Granger didn't complete it," Cornfoot added, "Maybe the Sorting Hat made a mistake, and she should be in Ravenclaw."

Holly tuned them out as they walked towards their next lesson. Herbology followed Transfiguration, and Holly was more than happy to get outdoors and get some fresh air for a short while.

Professor Sprout was a fascinating teacher, Holly thought, who clearly loved her subject and her subject materials as much as she seemed to enjoy her students. She ushered them into one of the greenhouses with warm, welcoming smiles and while like Transfiguration she started with safety first when using their equipment it was without the dire warnings that Professor McGonagall had added.

She set them to examining different kinds of soils and guessing what types of magical plants would grow best in each one. She taught them how to cast a simple diagnostic spell on the soil that gave them a vast amount of information of the properties found in each sample and helped them understand what they were looking for when matching certain plants with specific properties. Holly found it fascinating to realise that magical plants had to grow in the right soil to fully have their nutritional value or properties. Dittany - a powerful healing herb used in Dittany's essence would lose over half of its healing properties if grown in the wrong soil.

After Herbology the Ravenclaws had a chance to return to their dormitories to clean up and gather the books they would need for the rest of the afternoon, before heading down to lunch.

Holly quickly discovered much to her disappointment that Transfiguration would be the only lesson of the day where they would get to at least attempt magic and practice a spell.

History of Magic while interesting in theory the lesson itself was boring, taught by the only ghost Professor, had a voice that put even the most studious of students asleep and had a habit of getting the names mixed up. He never asked questioned and seemed generally happy to speak to the class without having anybody participate in the slightest.

Holly opted to use her time in the room in reading her Defence Against the Dark Arts book and write to occasional odd note. She would catch up in History of Magic in her own time learning the textbook. Goldstein who had chosen to sit next to her again could barely keep his eyes open, despite seeming to try his best to stay awake.

The lesson that every first-year Ravenclaw had been looking forward to the most of the day was also equally the most disappointing. Defence Against the Dark Arts was nothing like what Holly had been expecting. Professor Quirrell seemed to be scared of his own shadow and stuttered throughout the lesson. He smelt strongly of garlic and gave a general impression that he would like to be anywhere else but in the school.

He was also her only chance of finding any information out about the Cruciatus Curse.

Not that she wanted to burn that particular bridge on the first day of her first year. It was why for the moment Holly was content in waiting and letting the rest of the week pass by without rocking the boat. She would search through the library and look for information first before she approached the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor.

And if she was able to find out the information on her own, well all the better.

* * *

The first years gathered around two of the tables in the Common Room that evening. Despite it being a long first day each of them was excited as the other as they discussed the day's lessons and made a start on the homework. Already Holly could see groups forming even after the first day. Students gravitating towards those of similar interests or mindsets. Patil and gotten friendly with Turpin. Boot with Corner. So forth it went.

Holly sat on the outskirts, not quite apart but not wholly separate from them either. While she had fallen through the social cracks and avoided interactions with others when she could, Holly wasn't stupid enough to completely alienate herself from her housemates. At least not yet.

It would be too noticeable if she did.

Not that she was the only one that kept to themselves, while Goldstein had made an effort to talk to her today, this evening he kept quiet, nose in a book and seemed oblivious to those around him, lost in his own world.

Holly frowned.

She had seen him interact with some of the others at the feast, but today he seemed to have pulled away and kept his distance from everyone but her. A part of her felt as if she should gravitate towards him, like magnets pulling at each other. They didn't have to speak; they could remain entirely separate but precent a united front to the outside world.

But the more significant part, the louder part that hissed and showed teeth at the idea of interacting with others won the round, and instead, Holly stayed in her seat, feet tucked under her, book in hand entirely happy in ignoring the rest of her housemates as she read her book.

Holly would find her routine, find her rhythm in Hogwarts, but for the moment she was content to merely process her first day, replay over the lessons and absorb the information off the page, listening and observing rather than participating.


End file.
